


dinner for two

by touchtheskye



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Car Sex, Coulson has a crush, F/M, not-a-date date, prompt, skoulsonfest2k15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 10:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3170912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/touchtheskye/pseuds/touchtheskye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson is trying to convince himself that this hasn't gotten weirdly intimate. </p><p>(Written for Skoulson RomFest 2k15. Day 1, prompt: not-a-date date.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	dinner for two

This was Skye’s idea in the first place.

She designed the op, after all. Coulson is trying not to read into it too much. It’s not actually a date. Skye has not actually asked him out to dinner. 

This is supposed to be a simple stakeout, nothing more. There will be wine, and nice food, and fancy clothes. It will look like a date. It might even feel like a date - Skye recommended against electronic surveillance, to avoid tipping off their target - so it’ll be just the two of them. May wasn’t happy about it, but she didn’t raise an objection at the briefing. She and Skye seem to have an understanding about these things.

The cover makes sense. They’re posing as a couple in a fancy restaurant. Nothing conspicuous. A bland middle-aged bureaucrat trying to impress his beautiful young date with an expensive meal. Standard surveillance op. Not a date. No sir.

And yet here he is, shaving for the second time today, so he’ll look clean and sharp and stubble-free for this - whatever this is. 

He’s decided that just because this isn’t actually a date doesn’t mean he can’t spend a little time looking put together. He shaves slowly and methodically; he uses the good aftershave; he selects a handsome watch and some nice cufflinks; he fusses over which tie to wear.

He checks himself over in the mirror and can’t help but sigh. He feels ridiculous, like a fifteen-year-old kid with a crush. Worse, like a fifty-year-old SHIELD agent with an embarrassing and unrequited crush on his subordinate. 

He frowns at his reflection. _Pull it together._

He’s determined to play it cool tonight, to focus on the job at hand. This is a mission, not a romantic dinner. Skye will never know that he’s spent the last thirty minutes choosing a tie.

 

 

Skye has set it up so they arrive separately, like a couple meeting up after work. Coulson is early, he drove; Skye is on the city bus. He scans the restaurant while he waits for her to arrive. Good design on Skye’s part; nobody thinks twice about a man at a table for two craning his neck, looking for his date.

No sign of the target, and the restaurant seems otherwise benign. It’s not a busy night. He’s only seen the one waiter, and as far as he can tell there are five other tables. It’s still early.

There’s a little card saying RESERVED at the target table, near the window. Coulson and Skye are situated a little ways over, closer to the kitchen, but with a good view of the exits and the target.

It’s already dark out and raining a bit. In the sea of jackets and trenchcoats and umbrellas he catches a glimpse of her bare legs. At least he has the decency to feel ashamed about how quickly he can identify Skye’s legs in a crowd. She’s almost at the door. He looks down at the menu, pretends he hasn’t seen her yet, and wills the tips of his ears to stop burning.

He looks up a few moments later and his mouth goes dry; the maître d’ has taken Skye’s coat and now she’s making her way towards him. Her dark hair is glistening from the rain.

Her dress is incredible, that’s the only word for it. Short and sleek. He tries desperately to drag his gaze away from her legs, all smooth skin and muscled calves. It occurs to him that his bland businessman persona should probably look happy to see her like this, not emotionally devastated. He does his best to smile as he stands to greet her. 

She kisses him on the cheek with a quiet “hey,” and he tries to act unfazed, like this happens every day. But his face feels warm where her lips touched his skin, and the smell of her shampoo is invading his senses. Somehow he manages to pull her chair out for her without knocking anything over.

They settle in for the stakeout fairly quickly. The waiter arrives and Skye puts on an impressive show of being flighty and indecisive. She’s noticed the target table is empty, and is graciously buying them some time. Coulson orders a good wine. He doesn’t plan on drinking a whole lot of it, but he’s hoping Skye will like it. He wonders if his accountant-trying-to-impress-a-girl act is getting too convincing.

 

 

“I can’t believe this,” Skye says, twenty minutes into the main course.

“Hmm?”

 “They stood us up.” Sure enough, the target table is still unoccupied.

“Looking that way, isn’t it?” Coulson is trying to convince himself that this hasn’t gotten weirdly intimate. Their food has arrived, it’s been nearly an hour since their target was supposed to show up, and half of the bottle of wine is already gone. This is rapidly looking more and more like an actual date.

Skye is loving the whole undercover thing. She’s throwing him flirty smiles, laughing openly at his jokes, laying her hands on his forearms deliberately for a little too long. Coulson gets the feeling he would enjoy this, Skye putting the moves on him, on a real date.

“Maybe we’re _too_ inconspicuous,” Skye suggests, out of the blue.

“Sorry?”

“Maybe this was a trap. Maybe they’re waiting for a pair of SHIELD agents to show up, but we’ve blended so well with the crowd that they don’t know we’re here.”

Coulson considers the possibility. He chances a look around to try to see if there are eyes on the restaurant; there are a few men in the kitchen who look conspicuously large and muscular, and two guys sitting a few tables away with cold coffees. 

Skye has noticed them too. Well, then. Nothing to do but settle the bill and stay inconspicuous. 

“What do you think, should we leave together or separately?” 

Skye looks surprised by the question. “I thought our date was going pretty well,” she says, cocking her head to one side and raising an eyebrow.

“Together, then?”

She smiles at him and slides her hand across the table, lacing her fingers with his.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Sure enough, one of the cold coffee guys watches them get up to leave a little too intently. Coulson spots him as he’s collecting Skye’s coat from the rack and holding it out for her; Skye sees him too as she slips into her coat. 

Skye turns around and Coulson can see the intent in her eyes already, so he’s able to muffle his horror somewhat when she skims her hands gently over his chest and presses a sweet but brief kiss to his lips. 

He kisses her back a little, gently rests a hand on her waist, tries not to panic. Cold coffee guy looks away, rolls his eyes at his partner, and they both check their watches, dissuaded that Skye and Coulson are who they’re looking for.

 

 

“That was nice,” Skye comments breezily, taking off her shoes and stretching in the passenger seat. Coulson makes a non-committal noise, and starts driving in the general direction of the Playground. 

“Oh, come on, sir. You had fun, don’t lie.” 

When he doesn’t respond, Skye twists in her seat to look at his face. “Coulson,” she says, gently. “I had a great time. Seriously.” 

She’s waiting for his response, but he can’t think of anything to say. He wants to tell her that he had a great time too, that they should do this again sometime, that next time maybe the Hydra lackeys don’t need to be there, that next time it should be a real date. But he knows he can’t.

“I’m sorry our target never showed up,” she offers.

“Not your fault,” he says. It’s the least he can do, to reassure her that she did a good job designing the op. “We walked right into a trap and walked right back out under their noses. I’d call that a success.” 

Skye huffs at him. She’s quiet for a bit. He tries not to imagine what she must think of him. 

“Are you upset because I kissed you?” 

“Skye, no. Of course not.” Coulson’s voice sounds hollow, even to him. He catches a glimpse of her scrutinizing him in his peripheral vision. 

“Pull over,” she says, suddenly. 

“What?” 

“Just. Pull over. Here.” He obeys; he can never refuse a direct order from Skye in that tone of voice, not really. He turns the car off and tries not to look directly at her. “Look at me.” He does. He is weak.

“Look, Coulson, I need to apologize. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” 

“Skye, it’s fine.” 

“No, it isn’t. I was out of line.” Her vehemence surprises him into looking at her properly. Her face is flushed, embarrassed. But her voice is steady and clear when she says: “That kiss wasn’t just for the sake of the mission.”

He doesn’t have a response for that. Well, he does, but it’s shocked silence.

“I kissed you because I wanted to, Coulson.”  

“Phil,” he mutters, automatically. 

“Phil,” she echoes, softly. His heart flutters at the sound of his name on her lips.

Whatever she sees written all over his face, Skye seems satisfied. She starts to close the distance between them, and Coulson is elated and helpless. He shuts his eyes, relishing the about-to-be-kissed sensations: the tingling at the base of his neck, the softness of her breath nearing his lips, the warmth radiating from her skin, the sound of her hand sliding up the fabric of his suit to rest on his collarbone. She still hasn’t kissed him, and he opens his eyes to find her looking at him, her lips paused maybe an inch from his.

“Don’t you love this part?” Her voice is mesmerizing, low and warm and just for him, the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. “The part right before I kiss you,” she says, and she’s so close that her lips brush his with every syllable. A strangled little moan escapes Coulson at that, and then Skye is kissing him.

Her mouth is hot and hungry against his, devouring. He returns her passion without hesitation, drawing her body as close as the car allows, tangling one hand in her hair.

He feels like her hands are everywhere all at once - in his hair, cupping his jaw, skimming down his chest and sliding under his jacket. Her right hand falls to his thigh, bold and squeezing, just inches from his cock. Her palm feels hot through his clothes, leaving nerve endings burning and tingling in its wake as it trails down to his knee. Suddenly her hand leaves his leg, and is releasing a lever under him, pushing his seat back and away from the steering wheel. 

Skye’s lips leave his briefly as she figures out the logistics of getting into his lap. His hands go to her hips, trying to help, and in response she shoves him back against the headrest and kisses him senseless. She is straddling him now, undoing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt with impressive dexterity as she bites down on his bottom lip. She attacks the newly exposed skin of his neck and collarbone with sharp teeth and hot open-mouthed kisses.

“Skye,” he says, breathless under her touch. She doesn’t seem to notice the sound of her name, so he calls out to her again, his voice ragged from her ministrations. She drags her mouth away from the tender spot under his ear, and he’s relieved to find that she is just as overcome with lust as he is.

“Phil,” she breathes, fixing him with a wild, dark look. Whatever objection he was about to raise dies in his throat as her hand drops to his groin, stroking him through the fabric of his pants. He watches as she makes quick work of the layers separating her from his hot, hard flesh. He lets out a half-stifled gasp as her fingers finally wrap around his cock and squeeze.

“I want you to feel how wet I am for you,” she says, her voice sultry and low against his ear. “I want you to fuck me, Coulson.”

“Oh god, Skye,” is all he can manage as she pulls her dress aside and slides the tip of his cock against her slick folds. She kisses him again, brief and reassuring, then puts one hand on his shoulder to steady herself. Her other hand maneuvers his cock beneath her, giving the base of his shaft one more gentle squeeze. She sinks down onto him, inch by inch, and Coulson exhales as she engulfs him completely. She moans quietly as her muscles shudder around him, and she captures his mouth in a haphazard, open-mouthed kiss.

The angle is tight and there’s very little room for thrusting, they’re mostly rocking against each other. The friction is intense and Coulson knows he can’t last long like this. He brings his thumb to where their bodies meet and within moments Skye is coming silently, pulsing around his cock, her fingers digging into his shoulders. She loosens her grip as she comes down from her orgasm, holding him and mumbling encouragement against his collar - _fuck, Coulson; yes; like that, don’t stop; Phil._ His hips start to jerk erratically and he comes, repeating her name softly against her skin.

 

 

“You know, this was probably the best first date I’ve ever had,” Skye remarks a bit later, once they’ve managed to extricate their bodies from each other and get back on the road. “A little bit of espionage, some nice wine, seducing the Director of SHIELD...”

“Skye. Please tell me this was an actual stakeout.”

  “Coulson, come on.”

“Skye.”

“Yeah, okay. But seriously, Coulson. Believe it or not, this was supposed to be an actual SHIELD mission, with actual objectives vital to the security of America. It was not just an elaborate ruse on my part to get into your pants.”

“Good.” He reaches for her hand and threads their fingers together.

“For the record, I am not above elaborate ruses to get into your pants.”

“I don’t think you’ll need an _elaborate_ ruse,” Coulson teases. “You could just take me to dinner.”

Skye squeezes his hand. “Deal. It’s a date.”


End file.
